


All My Secrets

by venis_envy



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: All Human, Alternate Universe, Bar fights, Boys Being Boys, College, Dating, Drinking Games, First Time, Friendship, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, Love, M/M, gratuitous rope play in the name of art, self discovery, shameless image thievery from the movie American Beauty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-25
Updated: 2010-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy/pseuds/venis_envy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your life is an empty place, will starting over new fill the void? What do you do when what was foreign to you becomes the thing you need the most? Do you take a chance at true happiness, or let it slip away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. This is a quicky slash story I wrote for the wonderful, amazing, licklicious rmhaleff and fucktacular, amazing VanPireNZ for the Fandom Gives Back fundraiser.
> 
> Craploads of thanks to vampireisthenewblack for all of her beta work, plot pounding (*snicker* I said pounding) and all around awesomeness.

"In this day and age, there's little need left for pencils and paper. Computers have taken over the monotonous tasks of organization, communication, and even making a straight line for us. As this has become the case, it has been increasingly difficult to teach college students to do anything without a computer, even something as simple as draw."

Professor Banner moved around the room, weaving between tables as he passed each student a copy of the semester's syllabus.

"In fact, I'm willing to bet that most of you aren't in this class by choice, but rather to fulfill a general education requirement for your degree in graphics design, photography, or art history, even."

I looked down at the paper he placed on my desktop, noting that everything he had just said was right there in print. I wondered how many times he'd gone over this same speech.

"It doesn't matter what your major is though. Drawing is an important facet of art. But, more than that, it's a craft that's ingrained in our very existence."

He returned to the front of the classroom and looked around at the small group of students. "Since the beginning of time, people have been expressing themselves through art, all the way back to Mesolithic cave paintings of our ancestors."

I suddenly found myself wondering if he'd notice if I dozed off for a bit. It didn't seem I'd be missing anything since he was reciting the syllabus verbatim.

"How many of you remember getting a bright new box of crayons when you were little and immediately setting about creating a masterpiece on Mom's living room wall?"

The class chuckled, myself included, finally showing signs of life. I certainly remembered something very similar to that involving markers and my closet doors. My mother hadn't been upset like most would. She simply handed me a paintbrush and told me to finish the job I'd started. Of course, she wouldn't condone such acts anywhere else in the house, but in my room, my canvas was anything I wanted it to be. As my age and interests changed, so did the walls of that bedroom.

"Is this seat taken?" someone asked. I looked up to see the person attached to the voice; a tall guy of medium build smiling down at me. He seemed friendly enough.

He didn't wait for me to answer before flopping his sketchbook down on the table and pulling out the chair beside me.

Professor Banner continued. "I will do my best to keep you engaged and encourage your creative growth, but I do expect you to be here and on time." He glared pointedly at the guy next to me. "I'm glad you could join us, Mr. Masen. We aren't going to have a repeat of last semester, are we?"

"No, Sir," the young man said as the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

"Good then." Professor Banner continued to read off the syllabus to us, going over our expectations, grading procedures, supply list and university policies, after which he gave us the simple instruction of introducing ourselves to our classmates.

"For the next sixteen weeks, they will be your partners, confidants, critics, best friends and worst enemies."

I arched an eyebrow at his statement, glancing around the room and wondering which of these giggling fresh-out-of-high school peers of mine might end up an enemy, and why.

"I really didn't cause any trouble last semester." The guy next to me was staring at me intently. "I mean, I missed a few critiques due to conflicting scheduling, but that was all." I wondered why he was explaining all this to me. "I'm Edward, by the way." He extended a hand which I took briefly.

"Jasper," I returned.

"Well, Jasper," he said with smirk. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"What?"

"Partners," he stated matter-of-factly. "Professor Banner teams his classes up based on tables, and since yours was the only one available when I got here, it means I'm all yours."

"Excuse me," a soft voice rang out from behind us. We both turned to see a tiny girl with short, dark hair looking at us sternly. She moved around us, sliding gracefully up on the tabletop next to Edward, smoothing her skirt and crossing her legs.

"Alice!" Edward said, standing to hug the girl.

"I thought you were all  _mine_ ," she pouted.

Edward laughed in response as he returned to his seat.

"I had a meeting with my advisor this morning," she said. "So I'm a little late, but this will be my table, too." The girl turned her attention to me, her gaze traveling up and down my body twice before meeting my eyes. "I suppose I could share." She winked at me. "Name and rank, soldier."

I stood to introduce myself properly to the lady. "Um…sophomore, design major, Jasper Whitlock, ma'am." I responded in my most polite tone.

"Ma'am? Wow, your mother certainly raised you right." She smiled at me flirtatiously. Was everyone in this place bursting with confidence, or had I just somehow landed myself straight into the center of the bubbling crack-pot?

"Freshman, design major, Alice Brandon. Edward here is majoring in music theory and composition."

"Did you just transfer here this semester, Jasper?" Edward asked as I took my seat again. I wasn't sure why I would notice such a thing, perhaps it was mention of him being a music major, but his voice seemed smooth, almost melodic to me.

"I did." I kept my response short and simple, worried that my nerves would cause my own voice to falter.

"Where are you from?" asked Alice.

"Texas. Amarillo area."

"Damn," Edward said, looking slightly shocked. "You're quite a ways from home."

I shrugged. "I like it here. The change of scenery is a good way to keep the creative juices flowing."

"Yeah, I guess so. Isn't Seattle pretty much the opposite of Amarillo?" He was still staring at me as he spoke, as if trying to read me. I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure what it was about this guy that made me feel both relaxed and nervous in equal measures, but he did nonetheless.

Another guy with sandy-blonde hair and a giant smile walked up to us, punching Edward lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey, is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

Alice chuckled, wrapping her arms around the newcomer.

"It's probably me." Edward crossed his arms and stretched out his legs casually. "I mean, you aren't bad to look at, Mike, but come on."

Alice pointed a finger at Edward. "There are plenty of other guys on this campus for you to be looking at, you leave mine alone."

"Hey, Mike knows he's not my type anyway," Edward said.

_Ah,_  I thought to myself.  _Maybe_ that _was where the small amount of discomfort was coming from. Edward was gay. He didn't_  look _gay. Does gay really_ have _a look?_  I wondered.

I noticed he was wearing a pair of black, steel-toed boots, nice looking jeans, and a tight black t-shirt. His hair was neatly out of control, if there could be such a thing. None of these things really screamed "gay" to me, but what the hell did I know?

Edward cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to his eyes. I realized I had been staring at him a beat too long and I raised an eyebrow in silent apology. He really seemed like a nice guy, and I didn't want my first friend in this new place to think I was n asshole.

"Jasper," Alice said kindly. "This is my boyfriend, Mike.

"I'm table-jumping," said Mike. "You guys don't mind, do you? Even numbers and all."

Everyone returned to their seats as Professor Banner called order to the class once more.

"On the back of your syllabus," he began, adjusting his glasses on his nose and flipping his paper over. "You'll find that list of supplies I mentioned. The sketchbook, fourteen by seventeen inch medium surface drawing pad, kneaded eraser, and your 3B and 6B pencils are all needed immediately, though everything else can be safely postponed for a couple of weeks. If you plan to purchase all of your supplies at the campus bookstore, I do encourage you to do so as soon as possible. Last semester, Professor Cope's 2-D design class bought out all of the art supplies within the first few days of the semester."

Having left basically everything I owned behind when I came to Seattle, I knew I would need to be quick about getting my supplies. The campus bookstore was easy access, and since I had flown here and left my car behind, I didn't want to have to take public transportation around an unfamiliar city in search of an art supply store.

"We're almost out of time today, but let me go ahead and explain your first assignment. You'll need to take a piece of your sketchbook paper and separate it into six sections. This isn't geometry, so I don't require them to be equal or perfect. In each section, I'd like you to draw a simple interpretation of the following emotions."

Professor Banner uncapped a dry erase marker and began to write on the whiteboard. People in the class groaned and complained with each word he added: love, hate, happy, sad, mellow, and nervous.

"Can we get an example?" one student asked.

"Ah, that's an excellent question," the professor responded. "And the answer is no." Another collective groan throughout the room.

"I don't want to actually  _show_  you any examples because I'd like to see what your ideas of 'simple' are, but it's all open for discussion. What are some ideas you all have?" He looked around the room for a volunteer response, but the class was now silent. "Come on, you're all art majors. What will you give me for sad?"

My thoughts wandered as I contemplated his question. Dark images of empty spaces swirled within my mind only to be replaced seconds later by a monochromatic scene of a dry, crackling desert plain.

"An empty vase," Alice voiced from across the table. I looked up, noticing that her eyes suggested she meant more than just a lack of flowers.

"Textbooks," another student shouted, earning a laugh from the rest of the class.

"Republicans," Edward added just loud enough for our own table to hear. We laughed quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of Professor Banner.

I had never been too into politics—most of the state of Texas was comprised of uptight republicans—but it had never really phased me until I found myself in a more liberal area. People were far less judgmental of one another around here. Even I, with my faded jeans, concert shirts, and hair that—according to my mother—was just a bit too long, seemed to blend in nicely.

 


	2. 2

I sat under the shade of a tall maple tree enjoying the early fall colors of the campus as I flipped open my American History book. Two hours until my next class started and then I'd be done for the day. I knew it would be a good idea to spend all my free time during the first week exploring the campus, but as I had always been one for academics, all I wanted to do was read my textbooks and get a jump start on my classes.

I chewed the end of my pen as I read through page after page, soaking in as much of the Civil War as I could. In his lifetime, my father had always been a Civil War buff. He hoped that I would take as much interest in the history of it as he had. He'd even gone as far as giving me a set of toy Confederate and Yankee soldiers to go with my Lincoln Logs for my seventh birthday.

History fascinated me, but not nearly as much as art. I often wondered if my father would have been disappointed in me for pursuing a career in graphics design rather than teaching as he had, but that just wasn't for me. During my freshman year, I had considered going for a masters in art history, combining my interest with the expectations that had been set for me, but there was little creativity in a career that would stem from such a degree. I needed to be able to create things, not just read about them.

A shadow was cast on the page of my book as someone moved between me and my light source. I looked up to see Edward smiling down at me again, just like he had in class the day before.

"Hey, Edward." I tore a piece of my notebook paper to use as a bookmark before closing my American History book.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," he said. "I just saw you sitting here and thought I'd come say hi on my way to class."

"Don't worry about it, man. You're not interrupting. I think I actually read the same sentence three or four times anyway." I laughed.

"That good, huh?" Edward sat down in the grass a few feet away.

I shook my head, leaning back against the tree. "It's not so bad, I guess. Just seem to be having a hard time focusing today."

"Beginning of the semester tends to do that to you. By the time you get into the groove and things seem to come a bit easier, it's all over and time to move on to the next challenge."

"Ain't that the truth," I said smiling. It was exactly right, and not just with classes. Everything in life seemed to follow that same rule. Just when you learned to crawl, they wanted you to walk.

"So, did you get all your supplies for the drawing class?" Edward asked.

"Not yet. My day was pretty full yesterday. I probably should go now before my next class starts, but I'm sort of comfortable right here."

"Well, Alice and I plan to go this evening if you want to come with us. We can work on showing you around campus a bit."

I didn't want to be the presumptuous asshole that assumed just because a guy was gay, he must be hitting on me, but the way Edward was looking at me certainly didn't suggest otherwise. I wondered if I should be concerned about that. I was open to having any friends I could get, especially here, so far from home where I was so alone, but I didn't want to give him the wrong impression.

"Yeah, you know, that would actually be perfect. Half the time I can't tell north from south on the campus map anyway," I answered. It was true. It didn't matter that there was a compass rose in the bottom corner of the map clearly illustrating the cardinal points, if I couldn't find north outside of the map, I couldn't find north. Period.

Edward laughed. "You get kicked out of boy scouts or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." I smiled and shook my head as I remembered that day.

"Shut the fuck up. Are you serious?" Edward's laughter was contagious and I found it impossible to hold back my own.

"I never was very good at any of it. Always had something better to do. I'd sit there and draw while they carved mini canoes and shit out of wood blocks."

"Wait," Edward interjected. "You weren't interested enough so they actually kicked you out?"

"Uh…not exactly. There may have also been an incident involving a flaming marshmallow." Edward laughed even harder now. "Smokey the Bear and standard protocol demanded an early withdrawal."

The rest of the afternoon passed without much interest. Class was slow and uneventful, as was expected for the first week or so of the semester, but I was also anxious to get out of there for other reasons. Edward and Alice would be accompanying me to the campus bookstore and I very much looked forward to spending time with them again. They were far different from the friends I'd had back home. Peter and Charlotte would have never approached a stranger and introduced themselves. Most of the time, they were too into themselves to realize there were other people around at all.

I waited under the clock tower where Edward had told me to meet them. It seemed easy enough. He pointed it out to me as he was leaving to head to class, and there was really no missing it regardless of my shoddy sense of direction.

"Hey, you." I recognized Alice's soft voice approaching. She and Edward came up the concrete stairs to the walkway that cut its path through the tower base, arms linked, looking very much like a modern day prince and princess; Edward in his nice jeans and form fitting t-shirt, Alice in a light, flowing summer dress and sandals. He tall, with an amusingly carefree look, she short and petite, well primped and perfectly manicured. They both had an air of confidence about them that certainly demanded admiration. It wasn't conceit; it was simply comfort with themselves and each other.

"How'd it go, cowboy?" Alice asked with a wink.

I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head at her nickname for me. "Is that going to stick?" I asked.

She shrugged, making even  _that_ gesture look graceful. "Depends."

"On?" I questioned.

"All she knows is that you're from Texas. If you give Alice any other tiny piece of information about you that she happens to like more, she'll change it," Edward answered. "Trust me. Over the last two years, I've had dozens. Most recent one being 'cock wagon,'" he laughed, nudging his friend.

"Hay ride and a pumpkin patch," Alice interjected. "We'll tell you more once you're securely wedged into our circle." She smiled at Edward. "Should we head to The Bookie?"

"Umm…The Bookie?" I asked, following the two of them down the path.

"That's the name of the campus bookstore. Edward works there, you know?"

"I don't work there," he said, looking at her before shifting his gaze to me and repeating his simple statement. "I don't work there."

"He works at the coffee shop that's inside the bookstore."

"See? Right there. That's the difference," Edward said as I caught up to them and fell into step beside Alice. "If you work in the bookstore, all you do all day is take money and put things in bags. In the coffee shop, I get to be a little creative with the drinks I make. I invent pleasure."

Alice leaned into me and, with an exaggerated whisper said, "He follows the instructions on a cheat sheet."

It was Edward's turn to whisper at me now as he leaned over her head. "She's jealous because they wouldn't hire her."

"Not true. If I had been showing more cleavage, I would have had the job long before you."

"Some day you're going to have to accept that I'm just more skilled with an espresso machine than you are."

"Well, you certainly outdo me when it comes to blowing steam, that's for sure."

Edward cocked an eyebrow at me. "I didn't have to show any cleavage at all."

I laughed at their playful banter, thankful for how easy it was to be in their presence. There were no awkward silences as per usual among new friends, no strange, prying questions to get to know one another. We simply talked and joked all the way across campus to the bookstore.

There were, of course, the occasional questions mingled in with comfortable conversation. Edward asked about my family, what my mother and father did, and if I had any siblings.

I answered truthfully—even though I hardly knew them—that I was an only child, my mother was a nurse midwife and my father had passed away when I was a teenager.

Edward's parents were doctors, both of them, and it seemed that he too had been intended to follow their footsteps.

"Music calls to me," he said. "My mother doesn't mind my pursuing this path. She had me playing the piano when I was only five years old. My father's surprisingly supportive as well. They really just want me to be happy."

"They sound nice," I said. "My father used to discourage me from drawing, but my mom always supported any decision I made. What about you, Alice? What are your parents like?"

"Oh, what a fun question," she responded with a smile. I looked at her curiously. "Hmm… let's see. I imagine they were both amazing, my mother a gorgeous movie star and my father a rich oil tycoon."

"Alice likes to live in her own world," Edward added. "She grew up in foster homes mostly, wound up here on a full scholarship."

The bookstore, as Alice had predicted, was sadly lacking the necessary items on our list. Apparently, this was typical. She wasn't worried though. Edward and she always had a backup plan.

"We'll just grab a coffee and head over to Olympic Art supplies. It isn't far from here. We could probably even walk, but since it's getting close to closing time, we'll just take Edward's car."

I looked at Edward, wondering if he minded Alice volunteering him to be our personal chauffeur. He shrugged noncommittally.

We purchased the items they had available, using our student I.D. cards for a measly—albeit helpful—ten percent discount.

"So, Jazz," Edward began as we stood at the counter awaiting our respective beverages. "Can I call you Jazz?"

Alice turned to me briefly. "It's a music thing. You can tell him no, but he probably won't listen."

"Anyway, Jazz, I know you probably like your coffee chewy and dark—that's cowboy style, right?"

Alice giggled at this. "Not the cowboy style  _I'm_ into."

"But that's not going to cut it here in Seattle," Edward continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. "So here, try this." He handed me a hot cup which I took gratefully. I hadn't even realized how cool the air outside had been on the walk over until I had a warm Styrofoam cup in my chilled hands.

"What is it?" I asked as I inhaled the steam emanating from the cup.

"My special combo," Edward said with a sly smile. "Trust me, once you taste mine, you'll never want anything else."

Alice chuckled at his double entendre and I shot him a warning glare. Edward cocked his head to the side, shrugging innocently.

I took a tentative sip of the drink in my hand, bracing myself. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, perhaps something too sweet for my taste, but what I was met with was quite pleasant indeed. Not too sweet, and not at all bitter, it was the perfect blend of coffee and cream with just a hint of sweet vanilla and cinnamon.

Edward arched an eyebrow, watching me expectantly. "Well?" he asked after a moment of silence. "You love it, don't you?"

"I confess nothing," I told him taking another swig of my drink. It really was delicious.

 


	3. 3

The weeks flew by, during which the three of us became very close friends. Even Alice's boyfriend was fun to hang out with. We spent most of our spare time at Edward's apartment, usually out on his fifth-floor terrace enjoying the crisp night air and view of the city. If it got too cold, we'd flip on the patio heater and gather around it, refusing to let anything keep us from where we wanted to be.

Edward's family all lived in Seattle, so he had no need for student housing like the rest of us. He would have just stayed with his parents if he hadn't already had a nice tasty helping of privacy and independence. I didn't ask him, but I was sure his father was paying his rent for him.

I gazed out over the park across from his building, watching for things to sketch. I never could be certain when inspiration would strike; sometimes a couple curled together by the water's edge, sometimes a plastic bag dancing on the breeze. This evening, the changing season was calling to me through the soft-lead pencil in my hand.

Most of the leaves had already fallen from the trees as they stretched their limbs up toward the heavens, begging for just one more day of warmth. Fall had settled over the city, the chill in the air was just as much proof as the lack of greenery. I hadn't realized how accustomed I had grown to all the lush foliage until it was dormant in hibernation.

I folded the cover of my drawing pad back as I continued to stare out into the park, hoping to freeze the image to my memory. With the most delicate touch, I stroked the edge of the pencil lead up the paper and within seconds, the scene was drawing itself; twisting tree trunks, dark and shrouded in the dusk, leaves falling like hope from the empty hands of their barren branches.

I finished in frustration, reluctantly setting the drawing pad on the ground beside my chair. There was nothing more to add to the drawing, and yet, it felt oddly incomplete.

"Don't you ever draw mountains and birds and shit?" Edward asked, stepping out onto the balcony.

"I drew a bird for our last assignment."

"It was a raven," he countered.

"So?"

"So…can you get more emo Edgar Allen Poe about shit?"

I thought about his question for a moment before answering. "Yeah. Actually, I probably can."

"Beer?" Edward popped the top off of one of the two bottles he was holding, passing it to me without waiting for my answer.

This had become something of a routine for us over the past two months; beer on the balcony Friday nights, coffee at The Bookie Monday through Thursday. It was nice to have some sort of stability here in this new place—something to look forward to, to count on.

The friendship I had with Alice and Edward was easy, natural—like we didn't even have to try, we just… _were_. Nothing was ever that easy back home.

I had never considered the possibility of having a friend who was gay—not that I was against it, it just wasn't something that I'd ever needed to think about before.

In a small town, one tends to grow up with certain small town beliefs, certain small town ideals, and certain small town narrow-mindedness. I, for one, was grateful that my mother had raised me differently, but I wasn't at all ignorant to the categorizing of such people. A lot of them thought that "gay" was a disease, an ailment that needed treatment to cure.

The stereotypical gay man wore expensive clothing, had a somewhat feminine voice, and walked with a little extra swing in their hips.

While Edward did indeed seem to wear nicer clothing, there was certainly nothing feminine about him. He had a solid, masculine form from years of running track in high school. His well-defined jaw, carefully mussed hair, and well groomed sideburns gave him a very nice 50's soc look, while I was more 90's grunge with my untrimmed hair, loose-fitting jeans and faded tee shirts. And then there was Alice. The picture of perfection with her designer dresses and skirts, and so many shoes I doubted she'd ever had to wear the same pair twice.

I furrowed my brow in confusion as I considered all of this. How exactly was it that the three of us fit together so comfortably when I looked very much like the odd man out?

"Tell your over-active imagination to shut the fuck up and allow you a moment of peace to enjoy that beer," Edward said, drawing me out of my silent, but expressive, musing.

I smiled, throwing back a giant swig of my Corona.

"Well, was it at least talking about anything good?" he asked with a half-smile and a wink.

I shook my head, both answering his question and dismissing his flirtatious behavior with one gesture.

That was another thing I'd grown used to over the last couple months; Edward not-so-subtly hitting on me. It was all in good fun. He knew I was straight, but that certainly didn't stop him.

He never brought it to an uncomfortable level and, once I got past the initial awkwardness of a gay guy hitting on me, I found his ridiculous innuendos pretty hilarious.

"Looks like Alice flaked out on us," he continued. "Something about Mike and a puppy…I sort of filtered her out once she hit that excited, ear piercing octave."

I laughed knowing exactly which pitch he meant.

"Well, we could always work on our project for next week," I offered, before taking another drink of my beverage.

"Yeah, that really doesn't sound like ideal Friday night activity. How about we strip down to our party-peckers and try a little Jazzercising?"

I choked down my mouthful of beer, trying desperately not to laugh it out my nose.

"Party-peckers?" I asked once I'd finally regained my composure.

"Yeah, well," Edward shrugged. "You know, birthday suits sound so formal. We're friends, right?

"For now," I joked.

"Why bother with formalities?"

"You're such a dirty fucker."

"I really am. It's surprising, actually."

I shook my head, laughing yet again at my friend.

"We should go out," Edward said after his own laughter subsided.

"Like, on a date?" I asked knowing full well that wasn't what he meant.

"Are you offering?" He asked with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Nope," I responded, looking back out over the park as I finished off my beer.

"I should probably know this by now since I've been feeding you alcohol every weekend, but are you even twenty-one?"

"Of course," I replied. "Barely. My birthday was just last week."

"What?" Edward asked incredulously. "You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not kidding." I sat forward, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. Pulling out my I.D., I tossed it over to Edward. He was silent for a moment as he studied the small piece of plastic.

"Jasper Cash Whitlock? That's so fucking country. How have you survived this long?"

"Hey, now. Johnny Cash was awesome, and you know it." I reached out to take the card back but Edward pulled away.

"Let's see... Hair color: check; eye color," Edward leaned a little closer squinting in the dim light of the patio. I glared at him.

"Blue. Check," he continued. "Six three… Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"I'm six two. I thought I was taller than you."

"Well, as we both know, you're delusional," I replied reaching a hand out for my I.D. again.

He grabbed my wrist to stop me as he continued to examine the card.

His hand was warm compared to the cool air of the night and, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, I made no move to pull away from his grasp.

"Hmm..." He turned back toward me, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist. "October fifteenth. You really weren't lying. You had a birthday—no, not just  _a_  birthday... _the_  birthday— just last week and you didn't tell us?"

I shook my head focusing back on the horizon as I watched the last remaining colors flee from the sky. Edward laughed drawing my attention to him.

"Alice is going to  _kick_  your ass!"

"There's a trick to it," I told Edward as I lined up the plastic cups. "If you hit it at the right angle– " he snickered. "–it'll flip every time."

He took a sip of beer straight out of the pitcher before continuing to fill the cups on the table. "And, we're calling this Tippy Cup?"

"Flippy Cup," I corrected.

We had made our way into a fairly mellow bar near Edward's apartment. People greeted him when we walked in as if they'd known him all his life—and, come to find out, some of them had.

Four pitchers shared between the two of us and two shots of Jack into the night, we found ourselves with a small group of people at a corner table setting up a game with me as the captain.

"Jazz!" Edward called over the music of the jukebox. "You're going to need to go over the rules one more time for us. I don't think these four got it." He gestured to the people beside him.

"I got it," the blonde girl said. "Drink the beer, set the empty cup on the edge of the table, smack the bottom to flip it over, then it's the next person's turn."

"Exactly!" I pointed a finger at her before moving it in Edward's direction. "You got all that?" I asked him.

"I got it. All right, let's do this." Edward set the now-empty pitcher down on the tabletop and lined up beside his teammates opposite me.

"Ready?" I asked once the table was set up and everyone was in their places. "Losers buy the rest of us shots."

"The rest of  _us_?" Edward asked with a smile. "Pretty confidant there, are we?"

I gave him a why-the-hell-wouldn't-I-be head tilt before grabbing my cup. The two of us slammed our beer back, setting our cups down on the table's edge at exactly the same time. Our teammates cheered us on as we each slapped the bottoms of our cups.

Having played this game a time or two…hundred…I had my flawless technique down to a tee: firmly tap the edge at an angle with only the tips of the middle and index fingers. The cup flipped back, landing perfectly on its brim. Edward, however, was not so skilled. My teammate—Rosalie, I think her name was—went next, slowing down our lead and giving Edward ample opportunity to catch up.

After a few frantic rounds of laughter, spilled beer, misunderstood rules, and flying cups, my team, of course, won the game.

Edward and I made our way over to the bar so that he could buy me my winning shot while the rest of the group went for another round. We stood at the counter waiting while we watched the gang play. It was a comfortable, relaxing night; the perfect non-birthday evening to be with friends.

The door of the bar pushed open, sending a cool autumn breeze into the room and drawing my attention to the offender.

A tall guy with a ponytail of greasy looking blonde hair came walking in, tailed by a small redhead woman and another man about his size. The blonde guy scanned the crowd with a menacing scowl on his face. It was obvious he was wasted and out looking for trouble.

I glanced over at Edward and saw him shaking his head as he looked away from the small group at the door.

"Hey," I called, raising my shot glass in the air. We had a brief but silent conversation as I questioned him with my expression and he shrugged it off raising his own glass.

"Salute," I said before downing the burning mouthful of whiskey.

Edward followed my lead, setting his shot glass down and pulling a face as he hissed through his teeth.

"You aren't supposed to be in here, James," the bartender called over to the door.

"Hey," the blonde man threw his hands up defensively, "I'm not looking for trouble."

The bartender shook his head as he removed our empty shot glasses.

"This guy's a total quief bubble." I turned, startled by the nearness of Edward's voice as he leaned his back against the bar beside me. He gestured toward the blonde man who was making his way through the crowd.

"He used to date Alice. I don't know what the fuck she was thinking. He was always such a dick to her, and he hated me for the fact that she and I were so close."

"Yeah, he seems pleasant," I replied as the bartender returned with two bottles of beer.

I took a swig of mine before setting it down and idly picking at the corner of the label.

"Cullen!" I turned to see the blonde man slap Edward roughly on the shoulder. "What's up, fag? Haven't seen you around much."

"Been busy with school," Edward answered with obvious disinterest.

"How's that hot ass friend of yours?"

Edward glared at him, not bothering to answer his question.

"Come on, fucker. Don't be rude. I could use a little pick-me-up."

"Alice isn't your pick-me-up, asshole," Edward said bitterly. "Why don't you go find a new toy to play with?"

"Oh, believe me, I have plenty. Some are more fun than the others though. I like to wear them out before I toss them. You should know all about that though."

I could see Edward's fist clenching and unclenching like he was fighting off the urge to punch the bastard, and I certainly wasn't far behind him.

"Who's this guy?" He gestured toward me as if I wasn't standing right there. "Your new boyfriend?"

I scowled at the nosy fucker, not because of what he implied—that part I couldn't care less about—but because of the shit eating grin he wore on his ugly face while he talked to my friend in such a rude and disrespectful manner.

"Nah, man. I told you, I'm a one ring circus. I can't take on any more while I'm fucking your mom."

I held in my laughter as I watched the sardonic smile melt from James' face.

Edward stood up straight from his casual stance leaning against the bar. I could tell this was about to get violent and I didn't like the idea of this James fucker hitting Edward—even if it did look like Edward was about to throw the first punch.

James shoved Edward into his friend who had been standing at the bar.

Pushing off of him, Edward came back at James, his fist poised for a perfect right hook. The guy behind him grabbed Edward's arm as James lunged forward, his fist connecting with Edward's jaw.

Without another second of hesitation, I went for the blonde guy, barely able to see from the rage that coursed through me.

I landed a punch to his eye, feeling the dull thud reverberating down my forearm indicating it was, indeed, a good solid hit. He didn't have a chance to react before I punched him again, this time in his foul mouth.

People were yelling all around us, but I was still somehow able to make out the words of the bartender over the chaos of the crowd as solid arms wrapped around me from behind.

"I'm gonna call the cops! Break that shit up!"

"Calm down, man," the voice behind me was saying.

It was Emmett, one of Edward's friends who had been watching us play earlier.

I struggled within his grasp despite the fact that I knew he meant me no harm. James sneered at me, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor between us.

His friend had a fistful of Edward's shirt which caused my anger to flair again before Edward jerked himself free.

"You." Emmett pointed at Edward with his free hand while the other arm remained wrapped tightly around my chest. "Come with me. I'll take you two home."

James glared at us as we were ushered out the door, the voice of the bartender carrying out into the night with us.

"I told you, James! I don't want you in my fucking bar again!"

Emmett walked us around the corner to a black hummer, unlocking the doors and gesturing for us to get inside. Edward climbed into the back seat and I slid in beside him, unable to take my eyes off the bloody cut on his bottom lip.

"That guy's such a fucking tool," Edward said. I must have been in some sort of trance from the adrenaline of the fight as I continued to silently stare. "Seriously? You didn't get a single scratch on you?" he asked. My knuckle was bleeding having been cut on the James fucker's tooth, but still I didn't answer him.

Reaching a finger out slowly, I wiped the blood from his lip—suddenly frozen in place as I realized how oddly intimate the gesture was.

Edward's eyes met mine, holding my gaze for a moment before he reached up and grasped my wrist for the second time that night.

Edward held my wrist, our gazes locked, but neither of us speaking.

"Here we are," Emmett said, snapping us out of our daze. "I've got a gorgeous girlfriend waiting for me, drunk off her ass thanks to a fun-filled night of Flippy Cup, so I hope you two don't mind shackin' up together for the night. I need to get her home before I miss my window."

Edward lowered my hand, but didn't release me as his other hand reached for the door handle.

"I think we'll manage," he said hopping down out of the Hummer and tugging me along with him.

I couldn't be sure if it was the alcohol, or just the long-missed skin-on-skin contact, but I found myself hoping he wouldn't let go of my wrist.

"Thanks a lot, Emmett." Edward guided me around the back of the vehicle and up onto the curb as Emmett pulled away. Finally, he did release his hold, and I felt an odd ache in my chest as he moved away from me.

We made our way up to his apartment in silence, both of us slumping down onto the couch as soon as we crossed the threshold.

I cleared my throat, realizing that I still hadn't said anything to him since we left the bar.

"So...friend of yours, huh?"

Edward looked at me, probably trying to gauge whether or not I was being serious. After just a moment, we both burst into laughter.

I hadn't been in a fight since my junior year in high school, and I told him as much.

"I don't fight a lot, but I can take care of myself," Edward said as our laughter died down. "You didn't have to get involved, you know."

"I know." I looked down at the cut on my knuckle, not wanting to meet his gaze. I couldn't explain the overwhelming need to protect him, just like I couldn't explain not wanting him to let go of my wrist downstairs. "His friend was holding you, Edward. Did you expect me to just stand there and watch?"

There was a short pause before he answered. "I didn't expect you to stick up for me."

I turned my head to look at him now; his eyes were downcast, focusing on his leg.

"Edward, as ridiculous as it might sound after having only known you two months, you really are my best friend. I'm not going to let some rotten fuck slap you around at a bar—or anywhere else, for that matter."

Edward looked up at me now, smiling weakly before wincing in pain from his cut lip.

"You should go clean that out," I told him. "That was one dirty fucker. We might  _both_ need a tetanus shot." I held up my bloodied knuckle to answer Edward's earlier question.

"Ah, so you aren't invincible after all then."

After cleaning up, the two of us headed back out to the balcony. It was late, but neither of us were tired enough to sleep.

The lamps lining the walkway through the park were dully filtering through a thin layer of fog that had moved in over the last hour. Their diffused orange glow mimicked the sunset from earlier that evening and I found myself lost in thoughts of the burning glow of Texas in the heat of the desert.

"I think we'll call it even for the birthday thing," Edward said. I looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. "You know, you helped me out, figured I could help you out. Your secret is safe with me."

"You don't owe me anything," I replied.

"No, I know. But, Alice really  _will_  kill you, and I'd kind of like to keep you around for a while...if that's all right. Besides, there's always next year."

I felt Edward's eyes on me as I considered his words.

"You  _will_  be here next year, won't you?"

"Yeah." I nodded slowly as I thought about the hollow, unhappy life I'd left behind. "I'm not going anywhere."

We said nothing more for the rest of the night, but nothing more was needed. The silence between us was comfortable, neither of us feeling the need to fill it with senseless chatter.

Eventually, we made our way back into the house where I lay on the couch with a blanket Edward had brought me before heading into his own room.

I tried not to notice how the blanket smelled like him as I wrapped myself in it, finding both warmth and comfort in more than just its feel.

I inhaled deeply as my thoughts wandered back to Edward's fingers wrapped around my wrist.

Was it really so wrong to allow myself to think about the possibility of being with a guy? Edward was everything that had been missing from my life back home. Did that mean that he was the perfect friend that I'd always needed, or was there more to it?

I'd never really considered the possibility of being gay before. I had made jokes a time or two about how, if given the opportunity, I would do Johnny Depp, but honestly, who wouldn't? There was something more about Edward, though. He flirted with me often, which, if I was being perfectly honest with myself, I found flattering—everyone wants to feel wanted—but besides that, we seemed to gravitate toward each other. Like some unseen force was drawing us together, and it never mattered how horrible my day had been, shitty test scores or errant thoughts of my past, every time he was near, all those things were forgotten.

I drifted off into a somewhat uneasy sleep, wondering where my life was going and what the future had in store.

 


	4. 4

It had been five weeks since that night at the bar, and despite my efforts to push all those thoughts of Edward aside, things were certainly different between us.

I wasn't sure if it was just me as I fought with myself to assail these foreign feelings, determined to not to fuck up the friendship I had with Edward, or if something had changed with him as well. He was still his typically dirty self, making suggestive remarks and sexual innuendos at every opportunity, but there was something deeper going on with him; something I was sure I wouldn't have noticed with anyone else. I would catch him staring at me sometimes, with what seemed to be sadness in his eyes, but when I would ask him if everything was all right, he'd just smile and crack off some smart ass remark that always made me laugh.

There were also tiny, innocent touches here and there, a shoulder brush as we walked across campus, or occasionally his knee would rub against mine under the art table. It was nothing intrusive or uncomfortable—just casual, small touches—but each one of them sent my mind racing with "what ifs" and my body aching to be nearer...just to see what he would feel like.

I noticed things that I wasn't sure I wanted to notice—things that caused feelings to stir within me that I didn't know how to deal with. Like the way he would run his fingers through his hair when he was tired or nervous, or how he would chew on the end of his pencil while concentrating on his drawing and what lines were required to perfect it. I was both amused and ashamed at the way my body would react every time I saw the tip of his tongue peek out to moisten his lips.

Would it be so bad? So wrong?

I spent three weeks reprimanding myself for thinking such things. I was straight, after all, and Edward was my best friend. But over the following two weeks, I began to allow my thoughts to venture a bit further, to question both my feelings and my motives. Was anything real?

Did I crave physical contact because it was something my life had been lacking for so long? And if so, would it matter who was touching me?

I knew the answer to that as soon as the thought formed. Of course it would matter.

Moving to Washington had changed my life in so many ways, and I was glad to leave the old me behind. I may have been equally as conflicted back then as I was now, but there, I had been constantly on edge, worrying about pleasing everyone else in my life. Here, I worried more about me, and figuring out who the real Jasper Whitlock was.

I cared about Edward; of that, I was certain. I felt like I could tell him just about anything and it seemed he felt the same way. We were practically inseparable, and if I interrupted the momentum of my own thought process, I would have probably found it odd that I was so comfortable with him. If I stopped to consider that the majority of my free time was spent playing chess, or watching TV, or sightseeing with my gay best friend, perhaps it would trouble me, but I didn't want to stop to think about that. Everything felt natural and comfortable with Edward. I didn't have to pretend to be someone I wasn't, like I had with Maria, but at the same time, I still wasn't sure who I was.

I didn't want Edward to be an experiment with my sexuality. If I decided to venture down that path, I wanted to be certain that where it led was exactly where I wanted to go.

"Hey," I said as I approached the counter.

"What's up, Jazz? Come to taste a little more of my magic?"

"You know I can't resist it," I replied with a smile. "No nutmeg, though. I think it made my throat swell a little last time."

Edward stared at me with raised eyebrows, but an otherwise blank expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder to see if someone had walked in and distracted him.

"Sorry." He shook his head as I looked back toward him. "My mind went on overload with all the jokes that I could have made there."

"Just get me my fucking drink, coffee boy."

"Coffee boy? I told you, I make magic." He laughed, grabbing a cup and shaking a few odd things into it.

"I thought you made pleasure."

"I  _invent_  pleasure. Magic, I make." Edward winked at me before moving over to the espresso machine.

"Well, aren't you just the walking embodiment of Disneyland," I called over the noise as I walked over to the table where Alice and Mike were sitting.

Alice waved her biscotti at me in greeting as I pulled the chair out and sat across from them.

Edward brought me my drink a moment later, letting us know that he was just going to finish up with his cleaning and then join us.

There was a black messenger bag in the center of the table flipped open with its contents spilling out onto the wooden surface. I picked up a bag of jerky and looked questioningly at Alice.

"What?" she asked. "It's study food. Finals all this week and next, you know." She took the package from me and stuffed it back into the bag along with a few wayward apples, a box of crackers, and an economy sized bag of Pixy Stix. I shuddered to think of Alice all hopped up on sugar.

"What about you, Jasper? You ready for this?" Mike asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not too worried about it. This isn't my first year." I smiled as I watched them mask their panic.

It seemed freshmen were always a little more stressed out over finals than sophomores and juniors. On top of all the studying and cramming to meet expectations and secure GPA's, they also had the added trouble of unfamiliarity with the system. When would their final scores come in? Would they be high enough to maintain their scholarships and financial aid for the following semester? It was always fun to watch.

"Edward! Hi!" I turned toward the enthusiastic voice behind me. A blonde girl with clothing two sizes too small was leaning against the counter, her foot kicked out behind her as she shamelessly batted her lashes at Edward.

"That's Jessica," Alice whispered. "I swear, she is so dim. Everyone on campus knows that Edward's gay, but she's just oblivious."

"I think she's in denial," Mike added. "She thinks since he doesn't sashay around saying shit like 'oh snap' and singing show tunes, he can't possibly be too gay for her to change his mind."

"It doesn't help one little bit that Edward flirts right back," Alice said. "I mean, look at him."

None of us tried to hide our blatant gawking as we all adjusted our chairs to watch the show play out.

Edward had been nearly finished with his shift, but he showed no signs of irritation as the girl placed her air headed order, telling him she wanted a non-fat venti chai latte.

Edward rested his palms on the counter beside her elbows and leaned closer to her. "Now, Jessica, I told you last time, I don't speak Starbucks." He gave her a little half-smile that caused my stomach to turn.

"Well then," she licked her lips, looking from Edward's eyes to his mouth as she spoke, "why don't you just mix me up something special? Non fat, though," she pouted out her bottom lip. "I have to take care of my figure."

Edward winked at her and I found myself growing unreasonably jealous at their little exchange.

Alice cleared her throat drawing my attention away from the two at the counter. I turned to see her and Mike both staring at me with raised eyebrows. Clearing my own throat now, I realized that I was probably scowling and did my best to relax the crease that was undoubtedly taking up residence between my brows. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and slid my chair back up to the table as the two continued to stare at me silently.

"She…seems nice," I said nervously. Was I really getting jealous over some tramp talking to Edward? My emotions really were out of whack.

"Yeah?" Mike asked with a blank face. "You want me to get you her number?"

"I'm good, thanks," I said through clenched teeth as I tried to convince myself to relax and shut the fuck up.

Alice doubled over with laughter.

Before long, Edward was ushering the tramp out the door, flipping the sign and locking the bolt behind her.

"That poor girl is so pathetic," he said, sliding into the seat beside me.

"Then why do you flirt with her so shamelessly?" Alice asked with a giggle.

Edward shrugged. "She tips ridiculously well. And besides that, I also feel like I'm doing a civil service when she comes here for coffee."

"How do you figure?" Mike asked.

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back in my seat to try and look nonchalant as I waited for his response.

"Well, see, Jessica is your typical attention starved, anorexic, cheer-whore. She never eats because she thinks even a few grapes will make her look fat. So, a few times a week, she comes in here and orders a ginormo, fat-free, no-caff , soy fluff, latte thing, like they feed her at Starbucks, and I do her a favor by using whole milk and full-sugar syrups."

"Oh my god," Alice said as she tried to fight the smile we all saw forming on her lips.

Mike and I did nothing to hold back our own laughter.

"You're responsible for her not wanting to eat those few grapes. I hope you know that," Alice said.

"Man, Edward." Mike tossed a piece of biscotti which Edward skillfully dodged. "For a second there, we were  _all_  convinced you'd gone straight. You could do a lot worse than Jessica Stanley, you know?"

"Oh, I know. I already  _have_ done worse than her," Edward responded.

Alice made a disgruntled noise. "That's true. Eric was horrible."

A sad expression crossed Edward's face.

"Who's Eric?" I asked, wondering immediately if they could all hear the concern in my voice as clearly as I had.

"Eric and Edward were together for a while last year."

Another pang of jealousy swept over me, but I pushed it down, waiting for Alice to continue.

"We weren't really together," Edward corrected. "I was with him, but I don't think he was ever really with me."

I looked from him to Alice in confusion.

"Eric strung Edward on for quite a while. Told him he loved him but messed around behind his back every chance he got."

"We've all got a pretty decent track record," Edward said looking up at Alice. Clearly he wanted to get the focus off himself. "Some longer than others."

Alice made to kick Edward under the table but missed and grazed my shin instead. I let out a grunting whimper, earning a laugh from both Edward and Alice as she tried to apologize. Mike looked confused but said nothing.

"My record isn't  _that_  long," Alice said. "Sometimes you have to take a few rough roads to find the right path." She wrapped her arms around Mike, resting her head on his shoulder as he ran a hand up and down her back.

"It's pretty long," Edward whispered to me. Alice heard and kicked at him once more, but this time I managed to avoid being caught in their crossfire.

"You should know it's hard to find a good guy out there in this pond of mattress hopping whore frogs," she said. "Good guys are few and far between. No offense, Jasper. I'm sure you're quite a catch, but I've dated a few–"

Edward cleared his throat.

"All right!" she continued. " _More_  than a few assholes. They were all so self-centered and serious. It didn't matter how long I was with any of them, I always felt hollow and alone."

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.

"Until she met me," Mike said with a playful smile before kissing her forehead.

"What about you, Jazz?" Edward asked. "You have any fun past relationships worth sharing? Or maybe even current?"

"No. No current, and I'm not sure about the 'fun' part either," I replied. "There was a girl I saw through senior year in high school and most of my freshman year in college. She never gave a shit about me though. Just liked having someone, I think. She liked the idea of being taken care of and looking good more than she actually liked me. I was just convenient." I don't know what compelled me to tell them those things. They were my friends and had just shared a lot of private information with me, but normally I didn't talk about Maria. She was a part of my life I had closed the door on, never wanting to revisit, but in a way, I felt obligated to tell them—to tell Edward. I wanted him to know that I had been hurt and used too. I wanted him to have that little piece of me even if I wasn't sure why I was offering it.

 


	5. 5

"I usually do a sort of free-for-all for my final project in this class. Generally, I like to have my students apply what they've learned throughout the semester to something that they'll want to hang onto for years to come—and hopefully, you still will." Professor Banner sat casually on the corner of his desk.

I tried to focus on everything he was saying, but found it exceedingly difficult while sitting so close to Edward. I could practically feel the electricity humming in the air between us and I wondered if he noticed as well.

I stole a glance at him, trying to be discreet. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as per usual and, to my embarrassment, staring at me with a smile on his face.

I looked away quickly, focusing my attention back on the professor.

"We're going to do something a bit different this time," he continued. "It's both simple, and rather difficult."

The whole class began to murmur their disappointment.

The professor put his hands up in defense. "Now, listen. I'm making it easy on you because usually most of the work involved in your assignments is coming up with your own unique ideas. I'm going to tell you exactly what I want this time, though."

I was a little disappointed with this announcement. I had been looking forward to expressing a bit more creativity with my final project. In all honesty though, I suppose this would make it easier on me. My mind was already busy with essays and tests—not to mention thoughts of Edward—I could use a little direction from someone else for once.

"Do you know that some universities actually have entire courses dedicated to the art of drawing hands?" Professor Banner stood and walked to the white board.

Pulling the cap off of a marker, he quickly drew out a cartoon figure of a boy with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

"How many of you remember drawing things like this?" he asked as he took a step to the side and pointed to the character with the end of his marker.

The class chuckled, most of them raising their hands, including myself.

"How many of you still do?" the professor asked with a smile.

I lowered my hand, but half the class kept theirs in the air.

"A lot of us don't even bother drawing people anymore. But, I'm willing to bet that the majority of you who still do—without even realizing it—draw them positioned carefully so that their hands are covered or, in some cases, outside of the frame completely. So, for your final assignment, I'd like you all to do your best hand drawing for me. You may use either pencils or charcoal, but it must be done on a fourteen inch bristol board, and I suggest utilizing photographs or even your partners as models in this assignment."

I glanced over at Edward again, noticing his long fingers as they pressed into his bicep.

"What about positioning and props?" one student asked, effectively breaking my trance and drawing my attention back up to the front of the room.

Professor Banner turned his palms up. "Anything you want, as long as the main focus is the hand."

A student on our side of the classroom raised his hand. "What if we wanna draw a hand flipping the bird?"

The other people at his table laughed, but no one else seemed amused by his immature idea.

"If that's the sort of creativity your thirty thousand dollar tuition is paying to foster, Mister Cheney, than by all means." Professor Banner turned away from the smart ass kid, addressing the rest of the class. "I trust that the  _adults_  in this class will take this assignment a little more seriously. Today is Tuesday. You have until Friday of next week to complete this project. And don't forget, I want to see the thought process that develops into your final project, so be sure to sketch out some ideas before applying it to the bristol board."

It was mid afternoon, and an unseasonable fifty-seven degrees in Seattle. I hadn't sat under my tree much since the first few weeks of the semester, so I decided it would be the perfect place to work on my essay while waiting for my last class of the day to start.

The air was still, no chilled breeze blowing my hair into my face like usual. It allowed the sun rays to soak through my jacket and warm me in spite of the season. December in Seattle wasn't much different than December in Amarillo, aside from the moisture, which we had little of back home.

Pulling my laptop out, I dropped my backpack on the cold ground at the base of the tall maple tree. I looked up, seeking out the colors that I'd grown so accustomed to over the last four months, but the tree was bare. A single red leaf caught my eye on an outstretched branch. Fall was over and it was almost officially winter, but it seemed no one had informed that leaf. It appeared to be hanging on with all of its strength and will.

Avoiding the frost on the ground, I sat down on my backpack, reluctant to lean against the tree's trunk for fear that the slightest movement might shake the lone leaf free from its familiar home.

I turned on my laptop, opening my American History essay and scanning through for obvious errors and typos. I had already corrected this paper three times, not to mention having Edward read over it after each edit, but I was still a little nervous about handing it in.

Finally, I resolved to leave well enough alone and saved it to my flashdrive before shutting down the laptop.

Now was the usual time that Edward would be walking by on his way to class, and even though I knew he was in the library already working on his final, I couldn't help but hope to see him. I wasn't a complete idiot to assume that meant nothing at all. It was clearly something more than friendship that I wanted with Edward.

I scanned the thin crowd of people across the field as they all headed toward their respective classes, but, of course, there were no signs of him.

Alice, on the other hand, I did see. She waved at me before kissing Mike and heading out across the field in my direction.

Not the friend I was aching to see, but perhaps I would finally find the nerve to broach the subject with Alice. I had been wanting to talk to her since she caught me glaring at Jessica Stanley in the coffee shop, but she was rarely ever without either Mike or Edward.

"Hey, Alice," I said as she approached me. "How are finals going for you?"

She tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips before she answered. "Well, I made it through the worst of it. Just finished my calculus exam. How about you? You look a little stressed." Alice sat on the grass in front of me. I was certain her thick tights were not providing any protection from the cold ground, so I took off my jacket and handed it to her.

"I'm fine," she insisted trying to wave it away.

"At least sit on it," I pleaded. I intended to talk to her and I was sure it wouldn't be a quick hi-and-bye conversation.

She sighed in defeat, taking the jacket from me and sliding it beneath her knees.

"Thank you," she said. "Anyway, what's going on? Finals getting to you, Mister Professional Sophomore?"

"Uh...actually," I rubbed at the back of my neck nervously, "it's a little more complicated than that."

I looked down at the yellow grass between us, avoiding eye contact as I searched for the words to start a conversation that may or may not change my life forever.

"Is this about you being in love with Edward?" Alice asked, shocking the breath straight out of my lungs.

Searching for my voice, I looked up, meeting her gaze.

"I'm...not in  _love_  with Edward," I said finally.

"Oh, right. Sorry. I thought that's what you wanted to talk about. What is it then?" She looked at me innocently.

I shook my head, letting out a frustrated groan. "I just...I don't know."

"You don't know what you want to talk about," Alice asked, tilting her head again. She knew damn well what was going on. She was just baiting me, wanting me to come right out and say it.

"I  _do_ know, I just...I don't know," I said dumbly.

"Ah," she nodded, "well, that makes sense then."

"I'm not in love with Edward, but...there's definitely  _something_  there," I said quietly.

"You care about him," she remarked. It wasn't a question.

"Of course I do."

"But it isn't love."

I shook my head, knowing this conversation was getting us nowhere.

"What is it then?" She asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Curiosity?"

"Mmm...That is a definite  _something_ ," she replied. "Are you more curious about Edward, or yourself though?"

I thought about her question for a while before answering. "Myself."

She nodded.

"I already know who Edward is. He's funny and kind and thoughtful...sure of himself without being an asshole, and secure with who he is..." I trailed off wondering where all that came from.

Alice smiled at me knowingly. "You  _do_  love him," she said.

"Alice, let's not get carried away. I'm straight, remember? Besides, what if it's just general curiosity? I don't want to start something I can't follow through with."  _I don't want to hurt him._

"Straight. Hmm...I  _do_  remember you saying that," she mused. "But honestly, Jasper, what does that mean? Clearly you have feelings for Edward, and who's to say what's right and wrong when it comes to love?"

I opened my mouth to once again counter her "love" comment, but she cut me off.

"Look, maybe you don't think it's love, but let me ask you this: if he was suddenly gone, out of your life for good, how would that make you feel?"

"Terrible."  _Like my whole world had ended._

"And if you saw him with someone else? Happy and in love."

"I'd be happy for him."  _But heartbroken and devastated on the inside._

"What if no one else were around? If it was just the two of you with no judgmental words being cast in your direction, no prying eyes, not another soul to have to explain yourselves to?"

It took me a moment longer to answer this question as it had been the same one dominating my own thoughts recently…

"I'd want to be with him," I answered in barely more than a whisper.

Alice looked at me with nothing but genuine understanding shining through her dark eyes. "We can't always pick and choose what our hearts desire. Love is a powerful thing, and when it finds you, it isn't easily ignored." Alice took my hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "I don't think you're curious, Jasper. I think you know exactly what you want. You're just afraid to reach out and take it."

I felt my shoulders slump and my heart clench. She was right. I was more worried about what other people would think. If I ignored all possibility of condemnation from society and focused on my feelings alone, I knew what she was saying was true. All of it.

"So…I need to sort my priorities and get my shit together."

"Wow. Did I say all that? I'm  _good_." She smiled.

I sighed heavily, leaning against the tree trunk, a tiny red blur catching my eye. I focused on the leaf just behind Alice as it slowly drifted to the ground.

She stood up, dusting my jacket off before handing it back to me.

"Sometimes you hang onto something because it's familiar, not because it's right." She turned and walked away, carefully side stepping the leaf that now lay on the ground beneath its home.


	6. 6

I took pictures of hands. Dozens of hands in various positions. Alice's hands, Mike's hands, my own and, of course, Edward's.

I had a project in mind. I planned to draw a picture of a face comprised of just hands and fingers in different positions.

Things don't always work out the way we plan though.

Edward and I went to his parents' house for dinner one night, and after eating an amazing home cooked meal and talking for hours, Mrs. Masen brought us into the sitting room where she begged Edward to play the piano for us.

I couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or the brandy that caused his ears to flush slightly as he bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair, but once Edward began to play, he seemed relaxed and very much at home.

The beautiful sounds filled the air as Edward's long fingers ghosted over the keys, a look of utter bliss on his face as he played, and it was clear that this was what he loved. This was what he was perfect at. This was his gift. And it was amazing.

He was so passionate, pouring his heart and soul into it. I found myself mesmerized by the grace with which his hands moved over the keys, and captivated by the joy emanating from him. I couldn't help but smile as he continued to play, his song seemed to beat in rhythm with my heart and stir a longing deep within me.

I pulled out my sketchbook capturing the exact work of art that I had so longed to create.

I had been thinking a lot lately about my feelings for Edward and how real they actually were. Coming to terms with those emotions was hard enough, but once I got past the initial barrier, I had a new concern: how does one go about letting a  _guy_  know he's interested in him? Was I supposed to ask him out on a date like I would a girl? Maybe just hit on him in subtle ways until he got it? Edward certainly had no qualms about flirting with me, but would I be able to be so bold?

Edward came out onto the terrace, flipping on the patio heater and tossing his book and pencil down on the chair. "You know, drawing's really not my thing, but I'm hoping to make this something I'll be proud of. Something I'll want to frame and hang on my wall."

"Yeah? What do you have in mind?" I asked, only a little nervous to hear his answer.

Edward walked over to the corner of the balcony. Lifting the lid on a wooden chest, he pulled out a thick piece of rope.

Clearly I should have been  _more_  than a little nervous. I took a long drink of my beer, lowering it only when I thought I would pass out from the lack of oxygen.

"Come on, Jasper." Edward's voice was smooth as silk, sliding over my skin. "You trust me, don't you?"

I swallowed hard, not entirely sure how to answer that. Of course I trusted him, but things had changed between us recently. Not just my feelings, but the very atmosphere surrounding us when we were together had somehow shifted. What would happen if I said yes? I knew Edward well enough to know that he wouldn't take advantage of the situation, but I was worried that I might want him to—I was worried that it would show before I was ready.

I took another gulp of my beer before setting the empty bottle down on the table.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, hearing a slight waver in my voice.

Edward smiled. "Well, first of all, I want you to relax. And then, if you'd be so kind, I'd like you to sit right there with your back against the rail."

I watched him for a moment, wondering if he was actually serious. When he started to move toward me with the rope in hand, I surmised that he was.

Sitting down, I leaned against the rails with my knees up in front of me, willing myself to relax. Edward knelt beside me wearing a smug smile that actually made me laugh a little despite my nervousness.

I held my hands out in front of me, crossing one wrist over the other. Edward's hands met mine with a delicate yet electrifying touch as he positioned them to his liking.

I focused on his face as he stared down at my hands, concentrating on his task; his green eyes seemed to dance in the flickering glow of the heat lamp. He turned my hands so that my palms were pressed together and I watched with amusement as his finger lingered over the scar on my knuckle.

"Is that from James?" he asked.

I nodded even though he was still staring down at the small mark. "You're really going to enjoy this, aren't you?" I asked, drawing his focus back to his original task.

Edward shook his head, a smile on his lips once again as he wrapped the rope around my wrists repeatedly.

Lifting my arms up over my head, he leaned in close to my ear. I felt his warm breath fan out over my neck as he spoke in a low, throaty whisper: "You have no idea."

He stood up, securing the rope to the rail above my head before moving over to the chair where his sketch book was.

We sat in silence for a while; the only sounds around us were those of the occasional passing car on the streets below and Edwards pencil scratching against the surface of his paper. His eyes shifted from my hands to his page over and over again and I couldn't help but smile when I noticed his tongue sweep along his bottom lip.

He was concentrating so hard on perfecting his drawing that I was sure I could stare at him completely unnoticed for the duration of the time.

I allowed my eyes to traverse his body while his attention was focused elsewhere. The way his forearm flexed as he drew, the pale skin of his throat, his strong jaw, his mouth. I wanted to reach out and run my thumb along the fullness of his bottom lip. Such a simple, but intimate thing to do, and yet I had never even thought of doing that to anyone else.

Just the thought of that turned me on. I closed my eyes imagining what it would feel like, but my mind had ideas other than that of just the feel of his lip. I imagined his emerald eyes locking on my own as he took just the tip of my thumb into his mouth.

My eyes snapped open as a sudden rush of paranoia overtook me, but to my relief, Edward was still focusing on his work. I didn't know why I was worried at all. If I had been standing, my state of arousal would have been quite clear to him, but as I was sitting with my knees bent in front of me, there was no way he could see.

I immediately wondered if my eyes would give it away and if I would actually care if he knew or not. I had been looking for subtle little ways to let Edward know how I felt for a while now.

I felt like I should speak, break the silence, but I didn't know what to say. How could I feel so comfortable with him and at the same time so awkward and nervous?

After just a few more moments, Edward paused, staring down at his sketch as he chewed on his bottom lip and ran his fingers through his hair. I wondered what it would feel like to have his soft hair sliding between my own fingers.

I must have made some sort of noise as his eyes quickly snapped up locking with my own, a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded, smiling at him reassuringly. "How's it coming?" I asked.

Edward breathed out a heavy sigh. "You've got great hands," he replied not really answering my question at all.

"Uh...thank you?" I clenched my fists before relaxing them again. The rope wasn't very tight, but blood circulation was definitely difficult in this position.

He smiled and it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. I noticed, not for the first time, how nice his smile was. Thinking back on the day we met, I wondered if I had subconsciously known then what was so obvious to me now: that Edward was devastatingly fucking gorgeous.

I decided to throw caution to the wind and try my hand at the "subtle flirting" thing.

"You should smile more, Edward," I said. "It looks good on you."

Edward laughed. "You should  _talk_ more so that I have a reason to smile," he responded.

 _Well, that didn't work._  "I haven't much to say that's worth smiling over."

Edward grinned again shaking his head as he looked back down at his drawing. "Your voice alone is reason enough for me." He began to move his pencil over the surface of his page again.

I found my eyes wandering down his body as I imagined it was my fingertips instead. I may have lingered in certain places for longer periods of time than others as I allowed my thoughts to wander. I noticed the top button of his shirt was undone and as he leaned over his drawing, I could see his collar bone just barely within the shadows. I felt myself growing more and more aroused as I thought about what it would feel like to be able to trace my tongue along that bone, to taste his skin.

When did my thoughts become so bold and why couldn't my actions follow them?

"You're different lately," Edward said, startling me out of my wayward thoughts.

His statement hung in the air while I waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more; he just kept drawing. His eye lashes seemed even thicker and darker as they cast shadows down onto his cheeks while his head was bowed.

"What do you mean?" I asked once the silence became too much.

Edward set his book and pencil down on the small table before walking over to me. He sat down on the ground beside me looking straight into my eyes.

I probably should have been more uncomfortable considering how nervous I had been all evening and the fact that I was still in a rather compromising position with my wrists bound above my head, but with Edward so close, I felt anticipation rather than apprehension. All my nervousness fled and what was left was sheer need and desire.

Edward moved a bit closer, his warmth once again caressing my skin as he exhaled a shaky breath.

"Jasper," he whispered, and I found myself leaning toward him. He tilted his head ever so slightly. His lips were so close to mine that I could taste his breath on my tongue.

I didn't answer him. I was afraid that if I moved even a little, he would back away.

"Can I try something?" He didn't wait for an answer before he moved.

Edward's lips barely touched my skin as he slowly ghosted his mouth and nose up the line of my jaw to the hollow behind my ear. He pressed his lips to the skin of my throat for an instant before moving back down my jaw pausing at the corner of my mouth.

My breath was uneven as I waited impatiently for him to make his next move. I was nervous again, but not because I didn't want him to continue. I'd never kissed a man before, and I wasn't sure what to expect really. Would it be gentle and chaste, or deep and urgent? It seemed like time was holding still, neither of us daring to move or speak.

His lips were so close to mine that all I needed to do was move forward a fraction of an inch and I'd be able to finally feel him.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed.

I shook my head slowly. "No," I whispered back, and as quickly as the word formed on my lips Edward's mouth was against mine, gentle and tender.

His lips were softer than I'd expected them to be; they felt so good against mine. I wanted to pull him closer, to feel him against me as our mouths moved together. His tongue pushed between my lips and I leaned forward as far as I could, pulling against my restraints, a frustrated growl escaping me.

Edward chuckled softly against my lips, his hand moving to the side of my neck. Wrapping my fingers around the rope, I gave it another tug to no avail. He continued to kiss me, exploring my mouth with his tongue. I wanted to feel his chest against mine, his heart and mine beating together as we shared this kiss.

Edward dragged his hand from my neck down to the hem of my shirt where I felt the tips of his fingers against my skin. I tugged on the rope again, wondering just what the fuck kind of knot he'd tied it with.

His hand moved from my side up my forearm to the rope. His fingers worked agilely against my hands as he untied the knots, all the while running his nose along my jaw and up and down the side of my neck.

If I thought I had been aroused before, it was nothing in comparison to what I was feeling now. I had to remind myself to breathe as he brought my hands down between us, gently tracing the scar on my knuckle again before pressing his lips to it.

"I think this effectively fucks up our friendship," I joked, hoping to ease a little bit of the tension and, at the same time, let Edward know that I was more than okay with this. That I wanted it.

He shrugged, smiling at me. "How close were we, anyway?" Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to mine once again. I moved a hand around to the back of his neck holding him close to me. It felt so good to finally be here in this place with Edward, to let go of conflicting thoughts and allow my true feelings to dominate.

 


	7. 7

My hands trembled as I fumbled awkwardly with Edward's buttons. I wasn't entirely sure what to do when I actually got them undone, all I knew was that I wanted to—needed to.

It wasn't like they had books for this type of thing, none that I knew of, anyway.

We had discussed this part a dozen times over the last two months, Edward patiently answering all of my questions—even the ones I was too shy to ask. We had decided there was no need to rush, and when we were both ready, we'd take that next step.

I always wanted him, always thought I was ready, but now that it was actually looking like I might get somewhere, I was a lot more nervous than I cared to admit. This whole situation was new to me, and I hadn't the slightest clue what I was doing. We had messed around a little over the last eight weeks since that night on the balcony...we had messed around a lot, actually.

The first time I felt his hands on me, exploring my body, it wasn't strange or uncomfortable like I'd worried it would be.

He always knew exactly how to touch me to make me forget everything. In those moments, the whole world melted away and it was just the two of us—hands and bodies and mouths and nothing else mattered.

Edward's hands moved down to mine. I thought he was going to stop me again, tell me that we didn't have to, that we could take it slow, but he didn't. Instead, his fingers moved to the buttons of his jeans, assisting me in my frustrating task.

I kissed his neck, my hand pushing his away as I struggled to pull his pants down over his hips. Why did that always seem so easy when people did it in movies? Clothes just seemed to fly off.

Edward pushed my shirt up, his hands lingering on my sides until I twitched away from his touch. He knew I was a little ticklish, and that combined with the nerves, I was doing all I could to keep my composure.

I took a deep breath, easing myself down onto the bed in front of where he stood. My shirt was off, and his pants were mostly down his hips, his blue boxer-briefs all that stood between us.

It wasn't as if I hadn't seen him naked before; we had gotten that far quite a few times, in fact. It was just the part that would come next that terrified me.

I exhaled a shaky breath as I pulled him closer to me, pressing my lips to his hip bone before pushing his pants and boxers all the way down.

Edward combed his fingers through my hair, tilting my head back to look into my eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

I swallowed hard, nodding as I pulled him toward me for a kiss. I was sure. I had been sure for a while now. That didn't change the fact that I was nervous.

 _Shake it off, Jasper,_  I thought to myself.  _It's you and Edward. There's nothing to be worried about._

That was such a fucking lie. Of course there was something to be worried about. What the hell was I supposed to do?

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as I pulled Edward down to lay beside me on the bed. My lips parted against his and I felt the warmth of his tongue in my mouth.

I wasn't a virgin. I'd had sex with a few girls in high school, so it wasn't like I was completely inexperienced, but obviously this was different. Not only was Edward a guy, he was a guy that I was in love with. It wouldn't be just a fuck like it was with them.

I pulled his shirt off, kissing his chest as I moved back up to his mouth.

 _One step at a time,_ I thought.  _We've done this part before. This isn't new_.

I relaxed against him as his arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer. His body was so warm and welcoming, so inviting.

"We can wait if you aren't ready." His piercing green eyes gazed into mine, his expression one of complete understanding.

"Would you please stop saying that shit?" I whispered before dragging my tongue along his bottom lip. "I want you. Just tell me what to do."

"Well..." Edward kissed me. "Let's start with you taking off your pants."

I chuckled nervously before pulling away and removing the rest of my clothes. Edward's eyes narrowed as he gazed at me in the same way he had every other time I had been naked with him: hungry and needful.

He pushed me back into the mattress, kissing me urgently as my fingers dug into his hips. I didn't want to hurt him, but I felt like I just couldn't get him close enough.

Our bodies were pressed together and I could feel his erection against my own as I moved under him. He took my bottom lip between his as his hand found purchase in my hair. He broke our kiss, tilting my head back and running his smooth tongue down my neck. He knew how much I loved that, how it drove me mad with desire. I groaned as I thrust my hips into his.

Edward rolled to his side, reaching into the drawer beside the bed. I dug my fingers into the sheets, squeezing my eyes shut again. It was almost physically painful to have him so near and not be touching him. I wanted to pull him back to me, but I knew what he was doing, what he was reaching for.

I felt his breath in my ear as he moved back beside me again. "Are you sure?" he whispered before taking my earlobe between his lips. My eyes rolled back in my head and I was extremely grateful that he hadn't seen.

"Fuck, Edward." The stubble on his jaw scratched at my face as I made my way to his mouth. I kissed him deeply, nibbling at his lip as I pulled back. I knew he was worried about me being nervous, but fuck, I was a guy. Horny always won over nervous.

Edward's hand was on my cock, stroking with perfect pressure. I wanted to push him away, afraid I'd come in his hand before I even had the chance to be inside him, but before I did, he moved away from me.

He smiled as he handed me the condom. I could tell he was about to ask me again if I was sure, so before the words had a chance to leave his mouth, I attacked his lips, licking and sucking and biting.

I pushed him down onto the bed as I tore open the condom. This was it. We had messed around, kissed, touched, rubbed each other to divine orgasm before now, but never had I gone so far as to actually put the condom on.

I stared motionless at my rubber-clad cock, wondering what the fuck to do next and cursing myself for not googling this shit.

Lube. I needed lube. I knew that. Common sense told me that, but was there more? Something else I was missing?

If it was a girl, I probably would have gone down on her first. That was sloppy and messy and to be perfectly honest, pretty disgusting. I'd never really liked to do it. Looking over at Edward's stiff cock, it was quite the opposite of disgusting, beautiful, thick, long. I still wasn't sure I was ready to have it in my mouth. That would have to wait.

Edward was on his back with his knees drawn up. We had talked about this part, too, that it was a little more gentle this way.

God, I was so worried I was going to hurt him.

I pushed my hair back out of my face as I moved between his legs, my free hand on his knee, idly rubbing circles.

My eyes were closed again, and I couldn't tell if I was even breathing. I was sure I was shaking though, and perhaps even sweating a bit. I could feel Edward's eyes on me, so I opened mine, meeting his gaze. He smiled at me, raising his eyebrow and if I wasn't so fucking nervous, I would have laughed.

Edward's long fingers wrapped around his cock and he began stroking himself while gazing into my eyes.

Fuck, that was hot.

I suddenly realized that my hand was no longer on his knee, but his thigh, closer to where I wanted to be.

He continued to stroke himself with one hand, while the other passed me a bottle of lube.

 _Oh yeah,_  I thought.  _That's what I needed._

I squeezed some out onto my finger before spreading it over the head of my cock. I wondered if I should use my finger first. I was curious what he would feel like, but I didn't want it to seem like a medical exam to him.

I thought about asking him if it would be alright, but decided to just go with it instead.

I caressed his balls, watching as his eyes fluttered shut, then moved my hand down. My finger was right at his entrance now. I swallowed hard, reminding myself to breathe as I made slow passes up and down.

 _Don't fucking linger!_  I told myself.  _Then it really_ will _seem like an examination._

I watched his face for signs of pain as I slowly pushed a finger into him.

It was different, but he felt good; so warm, and tight around my finger. I was even more worried now that I would hurt him once it was my dick instead. I wanted to see myself inside him though, to watch as my cock slid into his waiting body.

I moved my finger in and out slowly as my other hand cupped his balls. When he made a low growling sound, I took it as a sign that it would be okay to add one more finger.

I continued to watch his face for any signal that I was causing him pain, but I saw nothing but pleasure.

His beautiful lips were parted, his breathing slightly uneven. I could tell he was trying not to move. He wanted me to do this all at my own pace.

I withdrew my fingers, not able to resist kissing him any longer, but not sure I could manage the two tasks at once while still being gentle.

His fingers dug into the back of my neck as he pulled me to him.

"Please don't fucking tell me you're not ready," he pleaded in an urgent whisper as he pressed his forehead to mine.

I shook my head. "Not a chance. I just wanted to taste you."

I pressed my lips to his again, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

He was hot everywhere, inside and out. I sat up again, grabbing the lube and squeezing more out into my hand. I knew I'd need it, but wasn't sure how much.

I coated my dick completely, spreading more over his entrance with my finger. My hand was still covered in the lube so I grabbed Edward's cock and stroked it a few times before wiping the rest on the bed beside me.

Fucking lube everywhere, and I still wasn't inside him yet. I must have been stalling. Why was I stalling?

"Jasper." Edward's voice was rough and smooth at the same time, and the sound of my name rolling off his sweet tongue almost had me coming already.

This was about to be embarrassing.

With the back of my hand I wiped the perspiration from my forehead, steadying myself with one hand on Edward's knee again. I rocked forward a little, feeling my cock pressing against his ass. That was all I needed.

I guided myself to his entrance, holding my breath as I slowly pushed into him. Edward moaned, and I still wasn't breathing. The head of my cock was completely inside him, bringing incredible pleasure without a single movement, and I still wasn't breathing.

Edward's hand gripped his cock again, stroking slowly as his hips shifted upward just a little, taking me in deeper…and still, I wasn't breathing, only now, I was actually aware of it.

I drew in a deep breath before pushing my way into him. He was so incredibly tight around me. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before; I knew I wouldn't last long at all.

Edward reached his free hand out to me, gently tracing the vein on my forearm with his fingertips. I moved again, a little at a time. In and out, and then in a bit farther. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to use my hand to get him off instead of having him do that himself, but I was worried about splitting my focus in any way. One thing at a time for now, but I would make sure in the future to bring him as much pleasure as I could before using his body for my own benefit.

The guilt of that thought almost distracted me from the feel of Edward's body around me, until I looked up into his eyes and saw all the care and devotion.

I thrust into him a little harder and I felt my eyes grow wide with the surprise of my own action. How did that not hurt him?

"Jasper," Edward said in a quiet, soothing tone. "You're too tense. Relax. Doesn't it feel good?"

Among all the other emotions I was feeling in that moment, sadness suddenly welled up within me. Was I making him think I didn't want him? That I wasn't enjoying this?

My heart broke at the thought. I leaned over him slowly, as carefully as I could. My face was inches from his as I gazed into his eyes, so deep and beautiful.

"I love you," I whispered. Never in all my life had those three words held such profound meaning to me. Not only did I speak them, I felt them with every fiber of my being, more powerfully than I ever had before.

I wanted him to feel it, too. To know that I wanted him, that I needed him in every way he'd have me.

"God, I love you, too." Edward tilted his head up, brushing his lips over mine before kissing me fully.

His knuckles grazed my stomach as he stroked his cock, increasing the pace. I continued a gentle rocking motion as my tongue explored his mouth. I could feel my muscles tensing as my orgasm built, and I only wished I was better at this so that I could get Edward off before I came.

My toes dug into the mattress as a low growl emanated from deep in my chest. I sucked his lip into my mouth, a fire igniting within me as my whole body buzzed with the intensity of my orgasm. A low "fuck" escaped through clenched teeth and my arms trembled as I held myself over him.

Pulling out of him, I sat back on my heels, watching as he continued to pleasure himself. I wanted to help him, to wrap my lips around him and make him feel as good as he always made me feel, but as soon as I actually began to muster up the courage to try it, he had reached his own orgasm.

A stream of expletives fell from his lips as thick white spurts of come covered his stomach and hand.

It was the single hottest thing I'd ever seen.


	8. 8

"Where are we going?" I asked Alice, not entirely sure I really wanted to know.

"To The Bookie. Edward just got out of class and wanted us to meet him there to grab a cup of coffee."

A cup of coffee. That sounded simple, innocent, harmless—but knowing these two, 'innocent and harmless' was just a cover for something more devious.

We walked through the doors of the coffee shop, the familiar smells of fresh ground beans and warm blueberry muffins filled my senses. Edward didn't work there anymore, having decided to focus a little more of his time on his schoolwork, but over the last year, The Bookie had become something of a sanctuary for the two of us.

We met there as often as possible during the day between classes. Sometimes to just say hi or trade books, sometimes to steal a kiss before we parted ways for another four hours. We'd spent so much time there over the months, getting to know each other, talking about the past and the future, sharing secrets and working out differences.

From the moment I realized that Edward was what my life was missing, I think I knew I loved him. My life had changed so much in ten months, but none of it felt out of place or forced like it had before. Everything was so much easier with him.

I had taken Edward home with me over Spring Break to meet my mother. Even that was easier. I had been utterly shocked with how accepting she was of the entire situation. Edward certainly had a way of dazzling people, so I'd watched him work his magic on Mom, and within three days, I swore she was more attached to him than she was to me.

Her acceptance was like a gift to me, lifting a weight I hadn't even realized I'd been carrying. I had thought that moving away from home and becoming my own person, finding myself, would be enough, but knowing that my mother loved me unconditionally no matter who I chose to be with, was like the final piece of the puzzle fitting right into place.

She still hadn't allowed us to share a room, which was fine with me. The idea of messing around at my mom's house had made my stomach turn anyway. I had shown him my room though. He'd wanted to see the walls that I had painted and repainted countless times over the years.

The images had all been desolate desert plains, dry and lifeless. Lonely, just like I had been while living there all those years.

Edward had wondered why I would have surrounded myself with such things even though it clearly hadn't made me happy. I'd explained to him that even though I didn't like it, it had all been part of who I was. It may have been in the past, but the past was what helped me to become the person I wanted to be.

He'd laughed, and in the typical Edward fashion, called "bullshit." He'd told me my past will always be part of who I am, but it didn't define me.

We had stayed up all that night repainting those walls together with colors and life, maple trees and red leaves, green plants and coffee, freedom.

A cupcake appeared before me and I felt Edwards arm snake around my waist pulling me against his body.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered into my ear before planting a kiss on my neck and moving away.

Alice was standing in front of me with a giant grin on her face as she practically vibrated with excitement. "I wasn't allowed to throw a party," she said, her smile faltering only a little. "But Edward's got something great planned and Mike and I will be tagging along for a bit."

"Hope you don't mind," Mike said, coming up beside me and handing me a cup of coffee. "Happy Birthday, man."

"Thanks Mike. It's just what I've always wanted," I joked as I took the warm cup from his hands.

Edward cleared his throat exaggeratedly as he continued to hold the cupcake up in front of my face.

"And, of course, this." I took the cupcake from Edward, bringing it to my lips and licking some of the icing from the side.

Edward made a noise that immediately made me want to toss the cupcake down and drag him home.

"How about we just skip the other stuff and go home," he said, his thoughts obviously mirroring my own. He took the cupcake from me and set it down on the table. I noticed a little smudge of light blue frosting on the side of his finger and wanted nothing more than to lick it off, but I knew that wasn't a good idea. Edward and I never hid the fact that we were a couple, but we were generally pretty respectful of others, keeping the PDAs to a minimum. Sure, we would sneak a kiss here an there, or hold hands as we walked across campus, but there was an invisible line drawn at finger sucking in the coffee shop, so I resisted the urge.

"Don't even think about it," Alice said, grabbing mine and Edward's hand and dragging us out the door.

We separated from our friends in the parking lot as we made our way to Edward's car. Mike had bought a truck recently, and there was no longer any need for us all to cram into the Volvo every time we wanted to go somewhere together. I liked it better that way. Turned out I was pretty touchy-feely when it came to Edward, and it was best to not have any back seat passengers.

As soon as the doors were shut, I pulled Edward to me, stealing a kiss. I'd had a class early that morning, so the two of us hadn't seen each other at all that day aside from a quick kiss goodbye as I rushed to get out of the apartment at six AM.

"I missed you," he said, pressing his lips to mine again.

"It's only been six hours," I responded, fisting my hand into his shirt to pull him closer. His hand was on the back of my neck, the other on my forearm as I leaned onto the console.

"We need to stop," he breathed. "Or I'll end up skipping what I had planned and take you home instead."

"I'm okay with that," I replied.

Edward smiled against my lips. "That's because you don't know where we're going." He kissed me once more, chastely this time, before pulling away and starting the car. "You'll love it, I promise."

I groaned in frustration, my erection straining against my pants from the moment our lips touched.

"Well, is it a surprise, or are you going to tell me?" I asked as I adjusted myself.

Edward passed me a brochure as we made our way down the street.

"What's this?"

"Open it," he said. "It's an exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum."

I opened the pamphlet, excitement of a completely different kind washing over me. I'd lived in Settle for over a year and never found the time to go to a single gallery or museum.

_The Seattle Art Museum is excited to present a landmark exhibition of the work of Pablo Picasso (1881–1973), arguably the most radical and influential artist of the 20th century. The exhibition will present iconic works from virtually every phase of Picasso's legendary career, documenting the full range of his unceasing inventiveness and prodigious creative process._

_Drawn from the collection of the Musée National Picasso in Paris—the largest and most important repository of the artist's work in the world—the exhibition will feature more than 150 extraordinary paintings, sculptures, drawings, prints and photographs. This unprecedented opportunity is possible at this time because the Musée Picasso has recently closed for renovations, allowing a global tour of this full-scale survey to travel for the first and, very likely, the only time._

The pamphlet went on to describe Picasso's lengthy career and several examples of the art that would be on display.

I was shocked. I'd expected Alice and Edward to drag me out to a few clubs and maybe dinner where Alice would sing obnoxiously to me—or worse—have the waiters at the restaurant do it. This, however, was completely unexpected.

"How did I not know about this?" I looked at Edward in disbelief wondering how he managed to keep it a secret. I rarely ever watched the news, so I wasn't surprised that I hadn't heard about it on TV, but being an art student, it seemed like an event significant enough for one of my professors to have mentioned at least.

"I guess you've just been lost in your own little world lately." He smiled at me before returning his attention to the road.

I had never really been particularly fond of Picasso's forced-puzzle-piece style, where everything was disproportionate and somewhat abstract, but the emotions invoked from his paintings were truly incredible. I had always felt I could relate to his work, even if I didn't love all of it. Particularly his Blue Period, having been brought on by the realities of human depression and the suicide of a close friend, I'd always felt a certain closeness to those pieces. He had poured so much heart and soul into everything he created, so much of himself that it was almost as if he was standing right there before us.

As we rounded the corner of the main exhibit room, my eyes fell on an incredible sight; the one painting that I  _had_  always loved. The painting that I had admired as far back as I could remember. My breath caught in my throat as emotions threatened to overwhelm me. I glanced over at Edward who was equally as mesmerized as I was. He reached over and took my hand without shifting his gaze from the painting.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Alice's voice came from beside me, but my eyes were fixed on Edward. He was the only thing in the world more incredible than the painting before us.

"What's this one called?" Mike asked in a hushed whisper.

Edward responded in a matching tone. "The Old Guitarist," he stated simply, and I watched his eyes sparkle with life as they danced across the canvas.

He squeezed my hand, breaking my concentration so that I could focus back on the painting.

It truly was a beautiful sight, and though I knew its permanent residence was only a couple thousand miles away in Chicago, I was extremely grateful for the chance to see it here in Seattle with the people I loved.

We left the museum at close to five in the afternoon and headed to The Purple Café for dinner. I made Alice promise not to cause a scene by letting anyone know it was my birthday and to my surprise, she agreed.

We were all practically giddy after leaving the museum. It was certainly a once in a lifetime opportunity to see such a display of history's finest art and I was so grateful to Edward for knowing me so well and making this day perfect. As an aspiring artist, nothing could have been a more fitting gift.

I knew one thing that would round the day off nicely; all I had to do was get through the evening with our friends before I had Edward all to myself.

Throughout dinner, the four of us talked and joked as we always did. Edward kept shooting suggestive glances my way, and even when he wasn't, I couldn't stop staring at him. He really was beautiful, if you can actually use that word for a man. His hair was a little shorter now than when we met. He got it trimmed regularly, but not so short that I couldn't run my fingers through it. His skin was pale and smooth, aside from the stubble along his jaw, and I wanted nothing more than to drag my tongue up the column of his throat.

He had his hand on my knee under the table, slowly inching his way up as the evening progressed. By the time we paid the check and said our goodbyes to Alice and Mike, I could hardly keep my hands off of him.

As soon as we were in the car, I pulled him to me for a kiss.

"Thank you so much for that," I told him. "It was perfect."

"I'm glad you liked it."

I continued to kiss his neck as my hand caressed his thigh. Edward chuckled, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb.

He turned to kiss me at a stop light. My hands were under his shirt and I felt his muscles tense as my fingers traveled back down across his stomach. I reached the button of his pants and began fumbling to undo it with one hand. A car horn honked behind us and Edward laughed as he grabbed my hand to stop me.

"It isn't even that dark out yet. You can't do that in the car," he said.

Never one to follow directions, I slowly lowered his zipper, watching his face for signs of actual protest. I knew he had been as turned on as me throughout dinner at the restaurant. I watched desire replace the laughter in his eyes as he turned to look at me.

"Edward," I whispered as I leaned closer. "I love you." It wasn't something we said twenty times a day to one another, but we both felt it on a level that we were sure no one else in the world was capable of.

"And I love you," he replied. "But I still think we should wait 'til we get home."

I shook my head as I stared at his lips. Waiting until we got home would be a good idea, because then I'd be able to kiss him freely without having to worry about him taking his eyes off the road, but I decided I couldn't wait any longer.

I rubbed his cock through the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs as he made small noises of pleasure despite his protest to wait until we got back to the apartment.

Glancing around to see that there were no cars close by, I ducked my head down into his lap. I wasted no time pulling his cock out and running my tongue up the side of his thick shaft. His skin tasted salty-sweet and I moaned as I took him into my mouth.

Edward's hand found purchase in my hair as I made slow circles with my tongue around his tip. Slowly, he started to shift his hips up as my mouth slid down his length. I wasn't able to take him in completely in this position, which was probably for the best as I had been known to gag a time or two. He was never forceful or rough with me, his hand on the back of my head more for comfort than guidance.

His fingers grazed the back of my neck and I increased my pace. I wanted to get him off before we got home so that I could slip my aching dick into him as soon as we got there. I sucked his head, running my tongue along the slit before plunging my mouth back down onto him.

"Fuck," he hissed, and I knew he was close already. I removed his cock from my mouth, smiling before dragging my tongue up the vein on the underside. He groaned loudly as I grazed the sensitive head of his cock with my teeth before taking him back in again. A few more strokes were all it took before he was letting go. Shifting his hips upward, I swallowed around his pulsing dick as he came.

We couldn't have gotten to the apartment fast enough after that. I kissed him urgently as we stumbled down the hall to the bedroom, tugging at each other's clothing as we moved. Shirts and pants and shoes were removed and we tumbled onto the bed together in a tangle of limbs.

Pressing my parted lips to his shoulder, I breathed in his scent. I ran my hand up Edward's bare chest to his throat, gently dragging the tips of my fingers up to the stubble on his jaw. He moaned a little and I could feel his pulse quicken under my fingertips as they slid back down his neck.

Edward rolled away from me, reaching for the drawer in the nightstand. He pulled out the things we needed, turning back to me and wrapping his free arm around my neck to pull me down to him. My mouth found his quickly, sucking his bottom lip between my own. He always tasted so good to me and I knew it had to do with the love we felt for one another. He was my perfect match in every way.

I shifted my hips into him. His cock was stiff again, and it slid against mine smoothly creating the most delicious friction. I bit his lip playfully as he tore open the condom wrapper and pushed me away from him. His warm hand was on my cock, stroking as he licked my neck.

He rolled the condom down over my dick before digging his fingers into my hips and pulling me against him again. Our needful movements slowed as his hands made their way back up my body. His fingers caressed my neck before moving around to my jaw. The tip of his finger rubbed along my bottom lip and I took it into my mouth, sucking gently as his piercing green eyes locked on mine.

Edward pulled his finger away from me and replaced it with his tongue as he kissed me deeply and his fingers tangled into my hair, every movement fueled by need and desire.

He pushed me back as he sat up, turning away from me and onto his knees. I was only mildly disappointed for a split second. I wanted to be able to kiss his beautiful lips and taste his sweet tongue as I made love to him, but when Edward was on his knees before me, I knew that meant he wanted me to fuck him harder and deeper than I'd be able to in the other position, and for that, I could not complain.

I leaned down and bit his ass playfully before moving into position behind him. Grabbing the lube from beside us on the bed, I spread a generous amount onto my cock, stroking a few times before circling Edward's entrance with my slick fingers. He pushed back as I teased him a bit before pressing my fingers into him. We both moaned at the sensation. I slid my fingers in and out a few times, making sure he was ready for me. Edward groaned at the loss when I pulled out of him, but I quickly moved the head of my cock to his entrance.

Edward's long fingers wrapped around the iron bar of the headboard as he pushed back. He was impatient, and usually that was my favorite time to tease him, but my dick was painfully hard and I knew I couldn't stand to wait any longer.

I pushed into him slowly, enjoying the sensation of his body gripping my cock. His tight heat surrounded me and I groaned as I leaned forward wrapping my arm around his waist and dropping kisses across his shoulders. My hand wrapped around his on the headboard as I moved in and out of him gently.

Fuck, he felt amazing. It didn't matter how many times we made love, I never felt like I could get enough of him. His body, his smell, the touch of his hands, the taste of his mouth, I always wanted more. Every kiss and caress an unspoken promise of forever. After nearly a year together, I still couldn't describe even to myself the way Edward felt—so perfect and right, he made me whole in ways that I never thought anyone could.

I sat up to get a better look at him. Sliding my hand down the smooth skin of his back, I paused at his hips, gripping with both my hands as I slammed into him harder than I had been.

The sounds he made went straight through our bodies and caused my balls to tighten. I thrust into him over and over as I slid my hand around to his cock and began to stroke him in time with my own movements. He groaned and pushed back into me, his hand still firmly gripping the headboard for support as his other dug into the sheet.

Sweat dripped from my forehead onto his lower back as I leaned over him, my movements almost frantic as I drove us both closer to the edge.

"You feel so fucking good," he said through clenched teeth, and I almost lost it right then.

My free hand gripped his hair, tugging gently but firmly as I tilted his head to the side. I continued to stroke his cock as I thrust into him, all the while watching the pulse in his neck just below his ear. Aside from his mouth, that was my favorite spot to kiss him and when I finally felt his cock pulsing in my hand as he came for the second time that night, I leaned over him, fitting my chest to his back as I pressed my lips to his throat.

With all the strength and will I could muster, I pulled out of Edward. He cast a confused glance at me over his shoulder.

"Turn around," I said almost breathlessly.

He complied, lying on his back with his knees bent. I grabbed the lube and squirted a small amount on my dick again before pushing back into him. I liked it this way, with Edward on his back so that I could see his face while I fucked him.

My hair fell forward brushing his eyelids as I leaned down to kiss him. Lacing my fingers together with his, I pressed his hands down into the pillows above his head as our bodies continued to move together, every stroke bringing me closer to ecstasy.

Edward lifted his head off the pillow and I felt his tongue trace along my bottom lip. I moaned, taking it into my mouth as I thrust once more. My cock pulsed within him as I came, biting his lip and groaning with the pleasure of my orgasm.

I collapsed onto the bed beside Edward, pulling him against my chest as we both fought for breath. My heart thundered against his back and I wrapped my arms around him more tightly. We stayed like that for a while, until I felt his breathing even out and knew he had probably dozed off. I woke him with a kiss to the back of his neck and whispered words of affection in his ear.

We were barely able to move as we ambled out of the bed and went into the bathroom to clean ourselves up. After changing the sheets, we got back into bed and wrapped around one another just like we did almost every night. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I was very much looking forward to spending the entire weekend in bed with Edward. In fact, if I had any say, this was right where we would spend the better part of our lives; holding each other, surrounded by love and desire, never separating.

Edward had always been what my life was missing, and now that we found each other, nothing would ever keep us apart.


End file.
